


It's Light Outside

by timeladyofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyofletters/pseuds/timeladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader permanently loses her sight on a hunt gone wrong and goes into a depression. Dean does everything he can to pull her out of it. Inspired by the song "Light Outside" by Wakey!Wakey!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Light Outside

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not at all trying to romanticize depression or blindness, but I’m so sorry if it comes off that way.

You felt no pain when you lost your sight. There was no flash of light, no gradual loss of vision, no physical evidence of any kind as to what had happened. The demon simply held you down and covered your eyes with his hands. When Sam and Dean finally got him off of you, you were blind.

What you did feel was terror, absolute terror, which settled in when rubbing your eyes and blinking rapidly didn’t make a difference. Your entire body shook, the tremors taking complete control of you from where you were kneeling on the dirty ground. Unable to stand, you cried out for help, but you just barely heard Sam and Dean as they spoke to you; trying to figure out what was wrong. To their credit, they caught on pretty quick.

After an hour, when you still couldn’t see anything, you began to go into a state of shock. You folded into yourself, curling up in the fetal position while the Winchesters demanded that the now tied up demon restore your sight. He just laughed.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean growled, pure rage dripping from his voice. Then there was the sound of a gunshot, and the demon howled in pain. Without realizing it, you let out a small whimper at the sudden noise.

“Dean,” you heard Sam say to his brother over the demon’s string of curses, “I got this. You go take care of Y/N. She needs you.”

Without even a second of hesitation, the warmth of Dean’s body was by your side. “I’m right here, baby,” he spoke softly in your ear and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “I’m going to make this okay. I swear Y/N, you’re going to be okay.”

And for a moment, you almost believed him.

********************************************************************** 

One month later, your world was still cloaked in darkness. Sam had been trying to help you learn to maneuver the bunker through touch and memory, while Dean did everything possible to find a cure. He searched through lore and spells, took you to doctors and specialists, and went to Cas and even a witch; but he kept coming up empty. The demon who had blinded you was long dead, Dean having killed it in a fit of rage when he refused to do anything but cackle maniacally. You eventually came to the conclusion that there was no use - this was your new reality. You were sure that Dean had realized it too, but he never admitted to it. He refused to give up, even after you did.

There was distance between you and Dean. You didn’t know if that was on your part or his, but it was there. He was still there for you at every second, vowing that he was going to fix everything and helping you with whatever you needed; but he was extra careful with you, as if he were afraid you would freak out. Or break. Or both. Your boyfriend was treating you like you were a porcelain doll that could shatter into a million pieces at any second, but that’s not what you were at all.

Instead you had become a recluse; refusing to leave the bunker and spending all your time either cooped up in your room or silently wandering the bunker, your hand always trailing along the walls to keep you steady. You soon fell into a depression, which only made everything harder for you. You hated what your life had become, and the Winchesters hated seeing how much pain you were in.

One day, you got to the point where you couldn’t even get out of bed as the depression threatened to swallow you whole. From the moment you woke up, your eyes remained closed. What was the point? Awake, asleep; either way it was the same view. You heard Dean as he shifted beside you, ready to start the day. Then he went through his normal routine - he murmured some sweet nothings into your ear, kissed the top of your head, and headed off to the bathroom. When he got out of the shower, he went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. It wasn’t long before he returned with a breakfast tray; the decadent smell of food following him into the room and wafting around you.

You still hadn’t opened your eyes or budged from the position he left you in fifteen minutes ago.

“Y/N? You awake yet?” he asked tentatively, setting the food down on the night stand beside you. You didn’t respond. “C’mon babe, you’ve barely eaten all week. I made all your favorites. Sammy said you needed to eat something healthier, but that’s how you know it’s good, right?”

When you continued to ignore him, Dean covered his face with his hands and let out an audibly frustrated sigh. This had happened a few times before, you refusing to eat, but at least then Dean was able to coax you into taking a few bites of food.You knew that you were being difficult, that he was trying and you weren’t. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Y/N…baby…” he said softly, soothingly. “I know what you’re doing. You’re giving up. You’ve been dealt a crappy hand. Everything is different now, and you’ve decided to give up. I know how hard this is for you, Y/N, because I see it. Every second of every day, I have to watch you suffer through this. And I wish I could make it better. Hell, I’ve tried everything I could think of to fix this, but I can’t.” His words tore at your heart, but deep down, you knew he didn’t understand what you were going through. Not really. 

Dean settled down on the edge of the bed, right beside you, and took one of your hands in his own. His touch startled you at first, as he had developed the habit of asking before touching you since you became blind, but the feel of his skin against yours was the warmth that your cold heart needed.

“I know how much easier it is to just lay here and pretend it isn’t happening, but it  _did_ happen. And now you need to deal with it.”

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice so quiet that anyone else wouldn’t have been able to hear you. You opened your eyes then, and did the best you could to imagine Dean’s face as you spoke to him. “How can I deal with it? My sight is gone, Dean. It’s gone and I can’t do anything anymore. I can’t read, or hunt, or watch TV, or see the sun. I close my eyes, and all I see is darkness. I open them, and it’s still the same. Everything is black now, and I’m all alone in it.” You were crying, the tears trickled from your useless eyes and your voice had cracked multiple times.

“No, Y/N, you’re not-” Dean insisted. His voice was hoarse, as if he were on the verge of tears as well.

“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” you asked him. He gently squeezed your hand, and you took it as a silent signal to continue. “The worst part, is knowing that I’m never going to see you again. It’s like I’ve lost you Dean, even though you’re right here with me. I’m so scared that I’m going to forget bits and pieces of what you look like, until one day, you’ll just be gone. And then what will I have?” 

Those last few words were difficult to get out. The tears had become a steady stream down your face, and it took all of your strength to speak clearly through your sobs. You could feel Dean shaking slightly beside you, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to tell you that it was going to be okay. He didn’t try to fix you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and held you close to his chest, close to his heart. Then you did what you had needed to do for a long time - you cried. A real, loud, messy cry. You bawled and cursed and screamed at the universe and at God and at that demon for doing this to you. Snot dribbled out of your nose and the salt water from your eyes soaked the cotton of Dean’s shit, but it all felt so good to finally let it out. 

And all the while, Dean held onto you, and never let you go; even when you calmed down and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in weeks.

********************************************************************** 

Later that day, after you had awoken from your nap and finally ate something, Dean took your hand and led you through the bunker.

“Dean, where are we going?” you asked him, smiling slightly. After the morning’s tears and revelations, you felt lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

Dean pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm before helping you up the bunker’s stairs, up to the door. “We’re not going far. I just need to show you something.” A day ago, his choice of words would have made you shut down completely; but now, you were just intrigued.

You heard the telltale sound of the door creaking open, and instantly felt a gentle breeze on your skin. Dean slowly led you further outside, telling you where and when to step, and then you both came to a halt.

“Dean…” you began, urging him to get to the point.

“Y/N,” he said, taking both of your hands in his. “You said everything you needed to say this morning, and I’m so proud of you for that. But now, it’s my turn.” 

You simply tilted your head and waited for him to continue.

“What do you feel right now?” Dean asked you.

Your response was instant, and more than a little sarcastic. “Hungry, tired, annoyed…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dean chuckled. “There’s a purpose to this, I swear. Just tell me, what do you feel, physically?”

You pondered for a bit. “Well, I’m kind of chilly,” you said, suddenly becoming aware of the small goosebumps along your arms.

“Good! That’s good,” said Dean, a little too happily. You arched a brow and shot a look of slight irritation in the general direction of his voice. Dean must have noticed your facial expression, because he laughed quietly as he pulled on your hands, making you take a few steps forward.

“Now what do you feel?” Dean inquired before the both of you came to a stop. There was a shift in the air; you could feel the sticky humidity settling around you, as well as a mild heat.

“Warm,” you answered. “Hot, actually.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief and then explained what was going on. “Before when you were cold, you were standing in the shade. And now? We’re in the sun. You’re standing directly in the sunlight, Y/N, and even though you can’t see it, you can  _feel_  it.”

A small smile curved at your lips when you realized what Dean was trying to tell you, but you let him continue speaking anyways. The excitement in his voice was just too much to resist.

“I know nothing can replace your sight, but you have other senses too. We just gotta learn how to use them differently.”

“We?” you asked quietly.

Dean took both of your wrists in his hands and guided your palms up to the sides of his face. “You’re not alone Y/N. Not ever.”

He was right, you weren’t alone. Dean was right there with you, just as he always had been. Sam too. Even though things were different now, even though  _you_  were different now, at least they were the one constant that hadn’t changed. Maybe someday you could find your way back to being whole again.

With that thought in mind, you decided to use another sense of yours. You closed your eyes in order to concentrate better, and focused on what you felt through touch. There was a roughness against the skin of your palms, which meant that it had been a few days since Dean had shaved. You inched your hands up a bit, and the tips of your fingers brushed over Dean’s eyelids. You could feel his delicate lashes as they fluttered slightly, as well as the tiny folds of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Your thumbs ran along his plush lips to confirm what you suspected - he was smiling. You knew he was smiling without even needing your sight. Then you used your imagination to fill in the rest - the vivid green of his eyes, the love for you in his gaze, the sprinkling of freckles along his nose and cheekbones. You hadn’t forgotten one detail at all.

“I can see you,” you said happily, and Dean rejoiced right along with you. He hugged you to him, winding his arms around your waist and tickling your neck with his breathy laughter.

Then without warning, Dean kissed you. His lips moved against yours, hard and steady, as if he knew that you weren’t as fragile as you seemed to be. He kissed you with more love and adoration than he ever had before. You melted into him; your body reacting as if it knew what to do, as if it were expecting the kiss. Your mind, on the other hand, had to take a second to catch up. But when it did, you responded with a passion to match his own. After weeks of asking for permission to touch you and small, innocent pecks, Dean was finally giving you what you needed most - normalcy. 

When you both finally pulled away and struggled to think clearly through the delicious, dizzy breathlessness of what had just happened, Dean cleared this throat and said, “When you’re ready babe, me and Sammy are gonna try to teach you to defend yourself in case you need to. We figure that if Daredevil can kick ass, so can you.”

You laughed again, remembering the Netflix binge you and the Winchesters embarked on a few months ago. “I’m not a superhero Dean,” you told him.

“You’re wrong about that, Y/N,” Dean countered as he wrapped his arms around you again and propped his chin on your head. “You’ve saved me more times than I can count; but even heroes need help now and then. You taught me that.”

And without another word, you and Dean stood there and held onto other; basking in the radiant warmth of the summer sun.


End file.
